Captured by the Pirate Laird Page 12

  With his hand supporting her back, he laid her down. “Nor can I sleep for the memory of ye, milady.”

  Anne relaxed into the blanket. Calum’s feathery kisses cascaded down the length of her neck. Then lower. Anne arched her back. He parted her cloak and swirled his tongue over the flesh above her bodice. Her breathing ragged, her heart racing, all that existed was Calum’s seducing lips. Her breasts filled with longing, then his finger dipped below her bodice and stroked a taut nipple. She wanted to cry out with the tingling that rippled across her skin.

  “No, Calum.” Somehow she forced an ill-timed, throaty whisper.

  An unwanted tickle in the back of her mind chimed a warning. Kissing, yes, but she should not allow this. She took in a deep breath and pressed against his chest. “We cannot.”

  Calum pulled away, his brow furrowed and his eyes dark and drawn as if she’d plunged her father’s dagger into his heart. “But why? I ken ye like it by the way ye respond.”

  She sat up and scooted away. “’Tis not a question of how my body responds.” If only he would understand. “I want to kiss you and lock away the memory in my heart for all the years I’ll be cloistered with a man old enough to be my grandfather.”

  He fingered her veil. “I promise I will no’ take your innocence, but let me show you love.”

  Anne stared into his eyes. The honesty there assured her his words were true. She wanted this—wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. She let him pull her into his embrace and met his lips while the raging storm in her loins coiled with a fire so intense, she feared restlessness had taken up permanent residence.

  Bran crashed through the woods and skidded onto the blanket. “I found the nest—but we’ll have a difficult time reaching it. I think we need wings.”

  Calum quickly pulled away, and Anne brushed her fingers across her mouth looking anywhere but at their chaperone. The memory of Calum’s lips singed her flesh as if they were still upon her. She closed her eyes and wished they did not have to stop. Whatever it was that continually sparked between them stirred a desire neither could resist. But Calum had vowed not to take her innocence, and she fully trusted the laird to honor his word.

  ***

  Calum never should have kissed her breasts. Every time they were alone, he lost control. If Bran had not arrived when he did, Calum would have had Anne’s skirts up around her waist. His wayward urgings be damned. How often did he need to remind himself she was never meant to be his?

  “Bran—Help Lady Anne mount her pony.”

  Both the lad and Anne gaped at him, but Calum turned his attention to adjusting his stallion’s girth. “Me saddle was slipping a bit.” It was a fib, but a necessary one to regain his composure.

  Calum couldn’t bring himself to place his hands on the lady’s waist just now. Images of her stuttered breathing and flushed skin beneath his lips were too vivid and raw. His lips still burned with the sensation of her silken skin, ripe and yielding to his kisses.

  He watched Bran try to lift her by the waist. Though a strapping lad, he had nowhere near enough strength, and Anne caught herself on his shoulders before they both sprawled over backwards. Calum resisted his urge to dash to her side and sweep her into his arms. Red as a cherry, Bran brushed himself off. He resorted to cupping his hands while he bent down to give her a leg up—like he should have done in the first place.

  Once in the saddle, Anne shot Calum a look that cut his heartstrings. She snapped her head forward and whipped her cloak over her shoulder. Calum clamped his fist around his reins and held his pony back. “Lead on, Bran.” He’d bring up the rear for a time until his blood cooled.

  With the wind at his face, it wasn’t long before the lump in his stomach eased. He hoped they would find this fledgling. It would provide amusement for Lady Anne, and with so many birds nesting on the island, using raptors to hunt would offer yet another source of food for his clan.

  Bran trotted his horse faster and pointed to a rocky crag. “Up there.”

  The rock was high and jagged. Calum could see the white excrement staining the cliff, a telltale sign of a nesting bird. He rode in beside Bran and studied the cliff. “If we can climb to that ledge, ye might be able to reach it if ye stand on me shoulders.”

  Anne let out a soft whistle. “It looks rather dangerous to me.”

  “Bran and I can do it, but ye’ll need to stay with the ponies.”

  “What if you fall?”

  Calum couldn’t resist a wink. “Well now, I’ll no longer have cause to be dragging meself through a bog of guilt every time me wayward eyes glance yer way.”

  Bran gave him a crooked smile. Anne looked at her hands. He didn’t think she’d come up with a quick rebuke—but she did. “I’ll not have you risk your neck for me or for a fledgling.”

  “Very well, I’ll risk my neck for me then.” Calum hopped off his mount and took a step to help Anne, but she slid off her mare on her own. He hobbled the ponies and started up toward crag. “Come, Bran.”

  With Calum’s first step, rocks crumbled beneath his foot. He stood back and examined his intended path. “Mayhap if we circle around the side, we’ll find better footing.”

  They hiked over to the spot Calum had seen. Unfortunately, the ancient rock crumbled there too. He glanced down the hill toward Anne. She shaded her eyes with her hand and watched them.

  Calum ground his back molars. He was going to climb this rock if it took the rest of the afternoon.

  Once they got started, Calum found footholds with relative ease but they ran into an impasse once they climbed to the ledge. The lip jutted out, feet from his grasp. Calum drummed his fingers as he teetered on a boulder. He reached for his dirk. “The rock’s soft enough, I can chip out a few notches for me feet. I’ll climb the wall and hoist meself up on the ledge, then I’ll hang over and pull ye up.”

  “Are ye sure, Calum?” Bran looked up at him from below, his face smudged with dirt. “Ye could fall.”

  Calum palmed his dirk. “Yer like a fat, lazy MacKenzie with yer bellyaching. Och, ye climb the rigging up to the crow’s nest. ’Tis no’ much different to this bit ‘o rock.”

  “Beg yer pardon. The stone just doesna seem as forgiving as a netted rope.”

  Calum slammed the dirk into the stone. “Silence yer tongue. I’ll catch that fledgling if I have to do it alone.”

  “Given all this effort, I hope the wee bird hasn’t flown the nest.”

  Calum shot the boy a glare. With the little naysayer below and the sharp-tongued lassie watching, he must find a way up to that ledge, no question.

  Chapter Eleven

  When Calum jumped for the ledge and missed, Anne squeezed her arms tight against her body. Far above his head, there was no chance they’d reach it. She wished she’d never mentioned falconry. It took months to train a fledgling. What would happen to the bird once she left? Would Calum assign someone to care for it? Perhaps—yes, if she asked and if he was serious about hunting with raptors.

  Anne looked at the sky. Teaming with birds, falconry would be another way the clan could help stave off hunger.

  Calum had left his claymore sheathed to his saddle, but he pulled out his dirk and started chipping at the rock. Was he actually going to attempt to mount the ledge? Anne paced, wishing the men would just come down and forget this whole thing.

  An eternity passed while Calum chipped and Bran clung to the rock below him. Finally, Calum put away his dirk and motioned to the boy. Anne held her breath. Calum looked like a spider climbing up a vertical wall. He launched himself onto the ledge and held on with his arms, his legs dangling over the side. Her feet tingled as if she were hanging in the sky along with Calum.

  He swung his leg over the edge and pulled himself up. Anne clapped her hand over her mouth. The man must be part squirrel.

  He motioned to Bran. Oh no, he couldn’t expect the boy to do the same. But Calum lay on his stomach and reached his arms over the side. Bran balanced on a rock and jump
ed up, grasping Calum’s hands.

  Bran swung there for a moment, and Calum used brute strength to pull the lad over the ledge. Anne held her hands against her chest and exhaled. They were safe. She had no idea how they’d get down, but at the moment, both appeared unscathed.

  An eagle screeched overhead. Calum knelt and Bran climbed on his shoulders. They teetered a bit while Calum stood. The eagle swooped at Bran’s head. He swatted it away and wobbled. Anne drew in a gasp, but Bran reached out his hands and steadied himself against the rock wall. Calum eased closer to the cliff. Reaching up, Bran seemed to catch something. He drew his hands back to his chest. Did he have a fledgling? The eagle dove, but Bran slid his legs down and sat between Calum’s shoulders. He waved at her. He did have one.

  Anne glanced at his pony. Drat. Bran had left the cage behind. She dashed over and untied it from his saddle. She could climb up and meet them half way. She only hoped Bran wouldn’t crush the bird before she reached them.

  Anne held up the cage so they could see it. Calum hollered something, but she couldn’t discern it. No matter, he’d tell her just as soon as she could reach them. She made her way around to the place where Calum had started to climb and stepped up. Steadying herself on a rock, she pulled up her heavy skirts. Women’s clothing could be ridiculously cumbersome. But, the men’s climb had looked as if it had been easy until they reached the ledge.

  Anne held up the cage while she slid her doeskin boots over the big rocks. Unaccustomed to climbing, her legs burned. The weight of her riding skirts made the ascent all the more difficult. But she could see them now. Looking up the hill, straining to see Calum, she took a step. The stone beneath her foot crumbled. She flung out her foot to find traction. It dropped into a hole and twisted. Anne fell to her knees. The rubble below her gave way. Out of control, she tumbled down the crag with a landslide of rock and dirt in her wake.

  ***

  When the rubble gave way and sent Anne careening down the hill, Calum forgot the bird and barreled after her. He feared the worst when she lay in a heap against a huge boulder. His heart flew to his throat, but then she moved. Anne had her back to him when she first tried to stand. She wobbled and dropped back down. His heart beat faster. Just as he reached her, she looked up, blood streaming down her face.

  His gut seized. “Lord in heaven, you’re bleeding.”

  She shaded her eyes then studied the blood on her hand. “’Tis my ankle that hurts. It twisted a bit.”

  “Just yer ankle?” He tore a makeshift bandage from the hem of his shirt and held it to her head. “Ye’ve had a nasty blow.” He bent down and inspected the gash, just under her hairline.

  “I dropped the cage. I hope I didn’t break it.”

  Calum held the cloth to her head. “Ye cannot be serious. Ye’ve just tumbled down a rocky crag and you’re worried about a wee cage?”

  Bran skidded to a halt behind him. “Lady Anne, are ye all right?” Bran took one look at her bloody face. “Och, you’re bleedin’ like a stuck pig.”

  She pushed Calum’s hand away. “’Tis only a scratch. How about my fledgling? Did the poor thing make it down the hill?”

  Calum reapplied the bandage, slipping his arm around her back to give her support. “Hold still. That fly-bitten bird is the least of our concern.”

  Anne persisted. “Bran?”

  The lad stepped forward and revealed the eagle cradled in his hands. “’Tis still a chick—no’ quite ready to fledge.”

  Anne’s face lit up with an enormous smile. “Oh, look at that sweet little thing. He’s beautiful. Thank you, Bran. Thank you both.”

  It was as if the bird was all that mattered to her. She rested against Calum’s arm and closed her eyes. “I’m afraid I need some help getting back to the ponies. My ankle’s awfully sore.”

  Calum raised the hem of her dress and revealed the swelling. She wouldn’t be walking anywhere. “Dunna ye worry, milady. We’ll have Friar Pat to tend ye.” In one motion, he stood with Anne cradled tight in his arms. “Bran, put the bird in the cage. We’ve got to take Lady Anne back to Brochel quickly.”

  He hated to see her bleeding. This was his fault. He should have brought Mara so Anne wouldn’t have had to stand alone while he and Bran climbed the crag. How could he have bounded up there just to impress her?

  With one arm, he cradled Anne against his chest, led the horse to a boulder and mounted. Her tiny frame felt so small, so vulnerable. “Lead the mare,” he called over his shoulder.

  Anne’s eyes opened and closed as he rode, as if she were having trouble staying awake.

  He gave her a squeeze with his fingers. “Are ye all right? Am I holding ye too tight?”

  She turned her head toward him and closed her eyes again, mumbling something he couldn’t understand.

  He rode hard and fast, supporting her so she would not jostle overmuch. “We’re nearly there. ‘Twill be all right.”

  His gut twisted in knots, Calum cantered the pony through the bailey and headed straight for the great hall. The arm supporting Anne burned, but he tightened his grip and held her steady while he kicked free of his stirrups and slid off. In the blink of an eye, he was surrounded by worried faces. He pushed his way into the hall. “Someone call the friar. Mara! I need ye now!”

  He cradled Anne against his chest and bounded up the steps.

  “Calum?” Anne’s sweet voice asked.

  “We’re nearly there, love.” Did he just say “love”? He hoped she hadn’t noticed. His emotions had run on the edge of raw for too long. He repeated “milady” in his head until he reached the second landing.

  Her fingers brushed against his chest. “Why are you so beautiful?”

  Now he knew the knock to her head had made her delusional. Him? Beautiful? He’d been called a lot of things, but never beautiful. But Calum’s heart fluttered when he glanced at her eyes. They were half cast, her lips parted, as if she were dreaming. Even with blood caked in her hair, she looked an angel.

  He pushed through the door and propped her against the pillows on the bed. Heaving a sigh, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “How are ye feeling, milady?”

  “Better. My head’s throbbing a bit.”

  “And your ankle?”

  “I think it will be fine.”

  She tried to lean forward to look at it, but Calum placed his hand on her shoulder and encouraged her to lay back. “Rest.”

  Friar Pat barreled through the door with Mara right behind. She carried a basket full of bandages and bottles of herbs.

  The friar rushed to Anne’s bedside, wheezing from exertion. “What happened?”

  “She had a nasty fall.” Pat shot him an accusing look and Calum spread his palms. “I told her to stay by the ponies.”

  “I wanted to help. ’Twas very clumsy of me,” Anne said, again trying to sit up. “I’m so sorry to cause such a stir.”

  The friar patted her shoulder. “There, there, lass. Ye mustn’t exert yerself until I’ve had a chance to look at ye.” He turned to Calum. “Ye best take yer leave while we see to the baroness.”

  Calum moved to the end of the bed. He wasn’t about to depart the chamber until he knew Anne would be well.

  Friar Pat and Mara paid him no notice. The holy man leaned over and inspected the gash on her head. “And how are ye feeling now, milady?”

  “My head hurts, but otherwise, I think I’m well.”

  He stretched the skin of her temple with his fingers. “It doesna look too bad.”

  “Her ankle is swollen too,” Calum said, grasping the footboard and leaning forward.

  The friar’s brows formed a straight line across his forehead. His gaze darted toward Calum with a silent admonishment. Calum pursed his lips and folded his arms. If he didn’t keep his mouth shut, Pat would usher him out and lock the door.

  “We’ll apply a honey poultice to keep the head wound from turning putrid, and then I’ll have a look at yer ankle.” The friar patted her hand and smiled. “How does th
at sound?”

  “Just give me a moment to rest, and I’ll be up and around.”

  Calum ran his fingers through his hair. “Ye were unconscious. Ye cannot just spring up out of bed and traipse around the keep as if nothing happened.”

  Anne pushed herself forward, a flush rising to her face. “Pardon me, but I know my own body.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and swooned.

  Mara caught her before she fell forward and helped her back upon the bed.

  The friar pointed at the door. “Calum MacLeod, ye need to let us tend to the lady in peace. Go stable yer pony and I’ll send word as soon as she’s ready to see you.”

  He headed for the door, but Anne’s voice stopped him. “I want to see the eagle.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. She looked so frail resting atop the huge bed. His heart twisted into a knot. This was his fault. If only he could hold her in his arms while the friar tended to her. He could protect her, mayhap even take some of the pain away. “I’ll bring him shortly, milady.”

  ***

  Anne choked back the pain as Friar Pat gently flexed her ankle and determined nothing was broken. She examined it over her skirts. The swelling had already gone down some and aside from a little bruising, it didn’t look too bad. After applying a honey poultice to her head and rubbing a soothing salve into her ankle, the friar offered Anne a warm cup of willow bark tea. “This will help the pain. I’ll have Mara bring up a draught to help ye sleep, but ye must rest for three days.”

  She cupped the tea in her hands. “Three days? That will drive me mad. I should be fine by the morrow.”

  “We cannot take any chances with yer health, milady. Do as I say and ye’ll be walking on your ankle pain free in no time.”

  Anne bit down upon her objection. There was no use arguing, but she would give it a fair test once she was alone. Stay in bed for three days? He must be daft.

  As Mara and the friar took their leave, Calum tapped on the door and cracked it open. “I have the fledgling, milady.”